The Beast Within Us All
by sixseasonsandamovie
Summary: In this dark retelling of the classic tale, Belle is a woman burdened with a difficult past, and the Beast is a man cursed with a dark future. If she surrenders herself to him, can they find salvation in each other, or will they discover the beast that lurks within us all?
1. Chapter 1

I tug my cloak tighter against me, but cannot get warm. I have already trudged several miles through the snow, and am nearing the edge of town. The cold, however, has nothing to do with my surroundings, and everything to do with the dread twisting my stomach into knots and turning my limbs to lead. I reach for the small bag of coins at my waist for the thousandth time, ensuring it is still secure inside my cloak. The purse is light, however. Painfully light. My mind flashes back to where I left Papa in his sickbed, racked with fever and chills. I must continue.

Soon I am pushing my way inside the town's tavern. A hunting party is back from the woods celebrating their latest kill. A cheer rises through the men, followed by a toast. I make my way toward the fire, trying to warm my frozen fingers. Another round of cheers resounds through the room as a voice rises above the crowd, shouting, "To Gaston, the greatest hunter in the whole world!" The men cheer and holler again, and I can't stop my gaze from turning to where I know he'll be standing. Sure enough, he is a commanding presence in the center of the crowd, unmistakeable in his bright red tunic, a pack of arrows still strapped to his back. He guzzles his mug of beer, slamming it on the counter and calling for another. He grabs a barmaid by the waist and pulls her into his lap, running his hands over her curves. The sight makes bile rise in my throat, and I turn back to the fire once more, steeling my nerves for what is about to come.

I find the white-haired man at his customary table in the back, tucked neatly between piles of ledgers. "Bonjour, Monsieur Henri." He looks up from his notes, and a wicked gleam dances in his spectacled eyes.

"Ah, Belle. I've been expecting you. Please, sit."

I pull up a chair and drop my coin purse on the counter. He weighs it in his leathered palm and gives me a stormy look. "I know that this is far from the full amount, but please consider it a payment toward…"

He silences me with the raise of a hand. "Enough, Belle. This is the same conversation we had last month, and the month before." He trails a finger through his book. "For the last seven months, actually. Enough is enough. Either Maurice can pay for his bills, or he can't. If he cannot, he will be carted off to debtor's prison, where he belongs."

I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, but feel myself rising into a panic. "Please, you know that he will die there. His health-"

"Has been an issue for far too long, really."

"Please." I am about to sob. I can't think of my father wasting away in a jail cell.

With a sigh, Henri pulls my coin purse to his side of the table. "Consider this payment for not hauling him away this instant. You have bought yourself two days. If you do not return with the full payment by sundown on the second day, the jailer will bring his cart to your doorstep."

I should feel relief, but my panic only rises. I will never repay Papa's loans in two days. "There must be something, anything else that I can do," I plead.

A familiar laugh echoes behind me and my blood runs cold. His hand clamps onto my shoulder in a grip tight enough to bruise. "Face it, Belle, it's time for old Maurice to face the music. Don't worry, I won't let you live on the street. If you beg nicely, I'll take you back."

I stand up and shove his hand off of me. "Go away, Gaston. I'm not interested." I turn my focus to Henri. "I'll get the money."

I hear Gaston's voice trailing behind me as I turn away. "She'll be back and on her knees for me by tomorrow. Perhaps I'll make her use that pretty little tongue while she's down there."

I am nearly running toward the door, trying to escape my rage and despair. I sense someone following after me.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle. I could not help but overhear."

My cheeks flush in humiliation. "Whatever you thought you heard, monsieur, it is of no consequence. Good day." I duck past him back into the swirling snow.

"Mademoiselle!" He is persistent, dashing into the snow behind me. He grabs my elbow with a gentle touch radiating warmth. " _S'il vous plait,_ mademoiselle. Hear me out." He is a friendly-looking man, a mop of curly brown hair framing a jovial face with a thick woolen cloak tucked up to his chin.

Perhaps I should trust this man, but I brush off his touch. "I do not wish for your charity."

"Surely not charity. An … opportunity." His earnest expression is the only thing keeping me from brushing past him once more. "I believe my employer may be able to offer a solution to your, er, unfortunate circumstance."

I wish to protest, but the debt collector's words echo through my head once more. "What sort of opportunity?"

"I think it best to let my employer explain for himself," the man says with a gentle smile. "My carriage is just ahead. Please, allow me take you to him now."

His charming demeanor nearly has me reaching for his proffered arm. "I… I can't. I don't even know you. And I need to return to my father." I step away from his illuminating presence and turn toward home.

"Mademoiselle!" he calls again. It seems his persistence knows no limits. " _Pardon_ , I have forgotten my manners." He removes his hat and dips into a flourishing bow. "Lumiere, at your service." He grasps my hand and places a delicate kiss on my knuckles. He must feel that my hands have turned to ice, as he wraps his hands gently around mine. "And you are?"

"Belle." I can't help but offer a small curtsey in return.

His smile is radiant. "Aptly named, I see." I fight the flush coloring my cheeks, but cannot pretend to be altogether unaffected by his charms. "Alas, we are no longer strangers. And as such, you are free to come with me. You shall meet my employer and be home to your father by nightfall. What do you say?"

I should say no. I should return to our cottage and rack my brains for some new solution to our mess. But I am out of options, and I am out of time. Even if his offer proves fruitless, I will be no worse off than I am now. I nod my head. " _Merci._ " With another glowing grin, Lumiere leads me to his carriage, and we are on our way.

The journey takes us out of the East end of the village, over the icy river and through the thick forest beyond. Before long, the road disappears and the carriage bumps along rocks and branches. Lumiere offers a shrug. "My employer… enjoys his privacy." This proves to be an understatement. My would-be benefactor's manor is not only isolated, but walled like a fortress, iron bars and menacing gargoyles protruding above high stone walls. From the carriage, I cannot get much of a view, only a sense that this place is vast, cold, and empty. Stormclouds have gathered overhead, darkening the sky. As our carriage pulls to a stop before the main entrance, the clouds burst open in a downpour of rain that freezes wherever it lands. Despite Lumiere's continued warmth, a shiver snakes down my spine.

I follow Lumiere inside through high wooden doors into a menacing foyer. He begins a blaze in the fireplace, but it does nothing to erase the chill and darkness from the room. Every inch of this manor appears to be done in stone and marble, all sharp edges and unforgiving severity. "Are you sure that your employer wants guests?" I call out as I am led down a long hall.

Lumiere smiles, but does not answer my question. He stops us in front of a grand oak door slightly ajar. Inside, I can see a large armchair placed in front of a roaring fire, but the occupant is hidden from view. " _Un moment_ ," Lumiere croons before he sidles into the room, shutting the door behind him. I press myself against the wood of the door, straining to hear the conversation within.

I cannot make out the words, only the grumble of two voices in a heated discussion. Lumiere's tone is one of pleading, cajoling his employer to hear my dilemma, no doubt. I curse myself internally. I should have guessed that Lumiere was acting of his own generosity, not under orders of a mysterious man looking for impoverished girls to free from debt. I am about to show myself to the door when the sound of a lower voice stops me cold. His tone is pure power, ferocity barely restrained beneath the surface. I am mesmerized, rooted in place by the power this voice seems to command over my very soul. I am so lost in listening to this voice that I tumble into the room as Lumiere opens the door once more.

"And here she is, sir. Hear her out. See if you can't reach an arrangement, _non_?" Lumiere gently hoists me to my feet and shoves me forward before swiftly exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

The fire blazes before me, but my veins have turned to ice. Every nerve in my body is screaming for me to run. This is not a man who will take pity on an unfortunate soul. Perhaps this is a man without a soul at all. "I- I'm sorry," I choke out. I am only two steps toward the door when his voice freezes me once more.

"Come here." It is a command, nearly a growl. I cannot refuse.

One step at a time, I draw myself closer to the fire until I am in front of the armchair. I have not mustered the courage to look anywhere but at the dancing flames. "Turn around." My body turns of its own command, of his command. He is sitting in the chair before me, but his face is covered in shadow. I cannot see his eyes, and am grateful for fear they would pierce me to my core.

The silence stretches between us until at last I clear my throat. " _Bonjour_. My name is Belle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, monsieur…?"

Silence.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to remember why I am here. It may already be a lost cause, but the sooner I receive his refusal, the sooner I can return home. "Your, um… Monsieur Lumiere may have already told you, but my family has fallen on hard times. My father has taken ill, and is unable to pay our debts." He does not interject, so I continue. "I was told you may have employment for me. I could cook, or work as a scullery maid. I can read and write, so perhaps I could assist with your correspondence. I could be a governess if you have any children…" I am rambling now, and I know it. I allow my voice to trail off into silence. One moment passes, and then another. Just as I am about to say something - anything - to break the tension, his voice stills me.

"I have no employment for you here."

I knew this would be the outcome, yet can't stop the sting of his words from radiating through me. I intend to make a quick retreat before the tide of despair can grow too deep. " _Pardon._ I did not mean to intrude." I offer the smallest of curtseys before nearly running for the door.

"Wait." And just like that, I am frozen. I hardly dare to breathe, such is the power of his words. I hear him rise from the chair, but do not turn around. His footfalls echo on the marble as he stalks toward me. My heart races, but I remain stock still. I can sense him prowling behind me, eyeing me like prey. "I have no children, and thus am not in need of a governess. I, too, can read and write, and thus need no assistance with correspondence. I already have an arsenal of scullery maids, and a team of chefs."

Why is he telling me this? Was it not enough to smash my hopes? Must he now scatter them to the wind as well? Anger boils inside me and my hands turn into fists clenched tightly to my sides.

His footsteps echo once more, and he is closer now. Much closer. So close that his breath prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. So close that the heat from his body warms my frigid limbs. He speaks. "I can, however, offer another arrangement." He trails a finger lightly over the flesh beneath my ear and along the curve of my neck.

"You will help me only if I warm your bed." I cannot keep the venom from my voice.

He lets out a low chuckle. "You would refuse? Surely you are here begging in the home of a stranger as a last resort."

Anger breaks the hold his voice had over my body. I step away and whirl to face him. His face should be bathed in firelight from this angle, but instead it is swathed in shadow. I push this fact aside, overcome with the need to bite back against his words. "I am no fool, and I am certainly _not_ here to beg. I understand the ways of men. You would satisfy your desire, then grow bored. The money would stop. I would once again be unable to afford Papa's medicine and then I would be back where I started. Only then, I would be broken and used. If I desired that fate, I would have already taken myself to the whorehouse long ago."

My words are met with silence. Only this time, it is silence filled with a rage, so tense it is nearly palpable. Even in partial shadow, I can see muscles coiled taut with anger. He is a tiger ready to spring. Too late, I see that I have erred. I was a fool to so brazenly insult a man of this nature in his own home. My only hope now is to flee. I move for the door, but am too slow. In an instant, he has me backed against it, his muscled arms above my shoulders pinning me in place. He is heaving with anger, his breath hot against my face.

I cannot run and I refuse to back down. I stare at him, trying to search his features for a sense of his next move. Yet as I attempt to do so, I am puzzled. I can see an outline of his cheekbones, tell roughly where his nose and chin should be, but cannot clearly see his face. Even in the dim light, I should be able to make out his features more clearly than this. I am utterly entranced by this mystery, and find myself reaching toward his face to see if my hands can discover what my eyes cannot. Just then, his eyes flash open. His eyes are a brilliant blue that pierce through the darkness around him. They stare at me with utter intensity, the rage in them cooling to curiosity as he sees the trajectory of my fingertips. For a moment, I think he will stop me. My heart is racing as I proceed, drawing closer to the mysterious darkness shrouding him. My fingertips rest against the cool skin of his cheek. The contact sends a shiver through me. I may be imagining it, but I think I can sense one course through him, too. For the briefest instant, I think I see something in his eyes almost like hope. "Why can't I see you?" I whisper.

The moment is shattered. With a snarl, he removes my hand from his face and pins it above my head against the door. He quickly takes hold of both of my wrists in one of his, then uses his free hand to tilt my chin so I am forced to meet his gaze. His eyes burn with untamed ferocity. "You know _nothing_ about me. You think I would be satisfied with only the pleasures of your flesh?" He barks out a harsh laugh. "I have far more sinister desires than that, I'm afraid.I would own you, control you, possess every part of you. You would belong to me."

"Would you provide for my father?" The words are out of my mouth before I can process what I have just said.

It seems I've caught even this man off guard. "What?"

I form the idea as I speak, but I cannot stop the flow of words. "If I were to give myself to you, to belong to you, would you pay my father's debts, see that he is cared for? Permanently. No matter if you grow bored, no matter how I've been used. A simple trade: my life for his."

I can hear his breath hitch in his throat. "You don't understand what you're asking," he growls.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter. If I give myself to you, will he be taken care of, or won't he?"

He releases a cry of frustration and tightens his grip on my chin. I do not flinch. "You are running headfirst into the lion's den. Continue on this path, and you will get bitten."

With the wild ferocity in his crystalline eyes, I almost think he will make good on that promise now. "If it's a path that provides for the only loved one I have left in this world, I will follow it to the ends of the earth." I meet his gaze, unwavering. He stares at me for several long seconds, his eyes as unreadable as his haze of features. "Do we have an agreement?" I am breathless in anticipation of his reply. My heart is racing, chest heaving so hard that my breasts brush his firm torso. And yet, I will not back down. I stare into his eyes for one beat, two.

Suddenly his body is slammed against mine, pressing me hard into the door. His mouth descends on my neck like an animal feasting on a fresh kill. He plants rough, hot kisses along the column of my throat. When his lips find the juncture of my shoulder and neck, he bites with enough force that I suspect he has drawn blood. I cry out in surprise at the force of his attack, but find my cry sliding into a breathy moan as his tongue laves the spot again and again. With another sudden movement, he is above me once more. I think I see droplets of my blood glistening on his lips, but can't be sure through the veil of shadow. He is breathing heavily, eyes maddened with a primal ferocity. His voice shakes me to my bones as he growls, "You. Are. Mine."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Not quite sure if I want to pursue this fic or not, so please let me know what you think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

What have I done? I stare into the wild eyes of the man above me, feel the sting of his wound upon my neck. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I should have more carefully considered what this arrangement would mean.

He releases me and I slump against the door, struggling to catch my breath. I watch him pace back and forth before the fire. Agitation rolls off him in waves. He runs his hands through his long hair, but I cannot determine the color. I am struck again by the oddity of his appearance. He is tall and muscular, with the bearing of a predator, yet I am unable to make out the shape of his features. Is he young or old? The tone of his voice has the commanding presence of an officer, but his temper is that of a boy. A new thought strikes me. "What is your name?" My voice is soft, but it echoes through the marbled room.

He does not stop pacing to look at me. "What difference does it make?"

"If I am to be your…" I can't bring myself to put a name to our relationship, if it can even be called that. "It would be simpler to know how to address you," I say at last.

He considers for a moment, pacing in long strides. Just when I think he has decided not to answer at all, he growls, "Call me Beast."

I bring myself to stand, considering this moniker. It surely fits him, for he seems more monster than man. Slowly, cautiously, I make my way toward him. He glares at me, and his icy stare freezes me in place. His eyes travel along my form, taking in every detail, lingering on every curve. I will not be ashamed. I force my hands to remain at my sides, my eyes to stay trained on his. I will not cower before him.

"Lumiere!" he bellows. The force of his scream nearly knocks me back, but I hold my ground.

The door opens and Lumiere dashes into the room. "Ah, mademoiselle and monsieur. Getting along, are we?" Beast huffs and I stare at Lumiere uncertainly. How can he remain so lighthearted in the face of this man made of darkness?

Beast turns to Lumiere and I nearly collapse with the freedom from his piercing stare. "Have the rooms adjoining my suite drawn up. Belle will be staying the night."

"Right away, monsieur!" Lumier cries happily.

"No!" I cry out. Beast turns to me with eyes full of rage. "Please. I need to get back to my father. I have only until tomorrow to pay his debts before he will be jailed."

Beast releases an angry cry. "You should have thought of that before entering into this agreement." He stalks toward me, towers in front of me. "You belong to me, and I do not share what is mine. End of story."

I tilt my face up to stare back into his. I show him the rage in my own eyes. "Our agreement is contingent upon my father's life. If you let him die, I will not be yours at all."

" _S'il vous plait_ ," Lumiere interjects. "Let us come to a compromise. Tonight, the mademoiselle will stay here and enjoy a warm supper. In the morning, I will accompany her to the village to ensure this matter is settled." He glances between the two of us still locked in a battle of wills. "That suits everyone, _non_?"

Beast pushes closer still. I am lost in the gravity of his eyes and cannot look away. "I will expect you in my rooms after supper." His voice drops another octave, his words ensnaring my soul. "You will not disobey me." With a final withering stare, he marches past us and exits the room.

It takes several moments for my heartbeat to decelerate and my fingers to unclench. Lumiere offers a patient smile. "Come, _mon cherie_ , let me introduce you to some real hospitality."

The imprint of Beast's darkness lingers on my skin, but it is impossible not to grin when Lumiere shines the glow of his smile upon me. "A hot meal sounds wonderful right now."

Lumiere brightens at this, taking my arm in his. He pats my hand and leads me from the room. "I will let you in on a little known secret."

My curiosity is piqued. "Oh?"

"In all of France, you will find no food more delicious than here in our kitchen."

I chuckle. His hospitality is almost enough to combat the menacing plates of armor and weaponry lining the walls. "So, this place…" I begin. Lumiere smiles kindly, but does not take the bait. I try again to elicit more information. "Has he always been so secluded?"

Lumiere stops me and takes my hands in his. " _Pardon_ , mademoiselle. I am afraid I am not at liberty to discuss the master, or the particulars of this manor." He is gazing at me intently, as though he hopes I will never forget his words. "That is something for you to discover on your own."

Before I can press him on this, a heavenly scent wafts to us from down the hall. The responding grumble from my stomach earns me a laugh. "Come, we are just in time for dinner."

When we enter the kitchen, it is a lively, bustling bubble of happy chaos in this manor otherwise devoid of life. Pots of soup boil on a stovetop, trays of meats and breads are pulled from ovens, and every manner of vegetable is being chopped and moved about the kitchen. This jolly frenzy is a welcome change of pace, and I feel my spirits rising. Lumiere drags me into the center of the madness and silences the room with a loud whistle.

"Madames and monsieurs, I present our honored guest this evening, Mademoiselle Belle." A cheer goes up through the staff, and Lumiere twirls me, then drops me into a dramatic dip. I laugh, and can't help but return the grins on the happy faces around me.

A man steps forward from the crowd. He is dressed in a blue waistcoat and has close-cropped brown hair. He dips into a bow before introducing himself. "Good evening, madam. I am Cogsworth, the master's personal valet." He extends his arm. "If you will follow me this way, I shall lead you into the main dining area." His posture is impossibly straight, every step a march. I sneak a look back at Lumiere and he offers me a knowing grin.

True to Lumiere's word, the dinner is divine. Course after course is delivered, each more decadent than the last. The waitstaff are the epitome of courtesy and add extra flourishes to the presentation of each dish. "We don't get many guests," Lumiere offers in explanation. I smile and force myself to try more courses than I have room for. This moment is too good to last, and I intend to savor every second.

Yet as the final dishes are cleared and the kitchen quiets, I feel my limbs turning to lead. I am expected in Beast's chambers. He says I belong to him. How does a man made of shadow treat his possessions? I am not ready to face him. "Cogsworth, do you know much about the history of this estate?"

His perfect posture straightens impossibly more. "I dare say, madam, that in addition to being a valet, I pride myself on being the most proficient historian on this residence's resplendent history."

"Ah, mademoiselle," Lumiere attempts to interject.

I focus my attention solely on Cogsworth. "Would you do me the pleasure of showing me around the estate? I have not yet been given a tour."

"Belle." Lumiere's voice is a warning. He knows my intentions.

"Hmph." Cogsworth gives his companion a sniveling look. "My deepest apologies that this courtesy was not immediately shown to you upon your arrival. It would be my greatest honor and deepest pleasure to escort you. Please." He offers me his arm and we leave the room. I can sense Lumiere's eyes burning into my back, but he allows me to walk away. For that kindness, I am grateful.

I pay little attention to what Cogsworth tells me as we stroll, unable to escape the dread of what awaits. I have bought myself time, yet my fate is inevitable. I try to focus on my surroundings, but one hallway looks like another, and each is an unending maze of dark stone and marble. A jail, I think. Or a tomb. The gravity of what I have done is beginning to weigh heavier on me. I am never to leave these walls again. Tomorrow's journey may be the last time I see my village again. The last time I see my father. A small sob escapes me.

"Madam?" Cogsworth looks perplexed. "I apologize if my opinions on Greco-Roman inspired architecture have offended…"

A second sob escapes me, then another. I collapse against the wall, burying my face in my arms. I hear Cogsworth fretting, but can't bring myself to look at him. What a fool I have been. What use is trading my life for my father's if I will never see him again? I am all he has left in the world. If he is alone, he's as good as dead.

Silence falls over the hall. Silence so deafening that I can no longer hear my own tears. I sense him before I see him. There is a cold that trails around his presence, tendrils of night and shadow that wrap around me before his arms do. I am pulled tight to his chest, lifted effortlessly. The sobs wracking my body subside, but it is from the force of my own will, not from any kindness he shows. There is no affection in this embrace. I am merely a lost object being returned to the shelf on which it belongs. His plaything that has wandered too far and must be reigned in.

We enter his chambers and I am deposited on the bed. He paces angrily toward the window. I focus my attention on the black silk sheets, the marble floor, the dark oak armoire. Anywhere that is not the mounting tidal wave of rage emanating from the man at the window.

"You did not come." He is pushing the words out from behind clenched teeth. I don't need to look to know he is gripping the windowsill with near enough force to shatter the stone.

"I was taking a tour." It is not an apology.

"You defied my orders." His tone is rising.

I turn to him now, my anger rising to meet his own. "You did not expressly forbid it."

He faces me. "I do not need to expressly forbid anything." He is stalking closer. "You belong to me. You may do exactly what I command and nothing else." He leans above me now, his presence blocking my entire field of vision. I refuse to flinch. If he wants the satisfaction of seeing me cowed, I will deny it at every opportunity. I stare back into Beast's face, temper flaring. His lack of discernible features is no less disorienting, but his eyes pin me in place just as before. I am trapped under his gaze. My heart begins to race. I cannot discern what new emotion is growing in his stare, but it comes with a sense of foreboding.

Beast takes my chin in his fingertips and pulls me within inches of his face. "I will teach you a lesson in obedience." His words are a dark promise that makes my breath catch in my throat. He pulls me flush against his torso until I am painfully aware of every hard line in his body. His hand draws upwards along my spine until it fists in the hair at the nape of the neck. I release a soft cry as he pulls my head backward, exposing the column of my throat. He licks over the mark he left before as though savoring his brand. His teeth graze my ear and he releases his words in a harsh whisper. "You are not to move or speak unless I command you to do so. Do you understand?"

I fight to remain calm. His hold on me has my mind racing in several directions at once and it is a struggle to compose my thoughts. Beyond all else, I know that I must not show my fear even for an instant. I take a steadying breath before responding to ensure my voice does not betray my panic. "Yes. I understand."

He traces his lips along my jaw - a hunter taunting its prey. "Have you been touched by a man before?"

My chest tightens, but I do not lose my resolve. I train my eyes on the chandelier above us, trying to force out the feeling of his skin brushing against mine. "Yes." My voice is only a whisper, but it is enough.

Beast lets out a growl befitting his name. He thumbs over his mark on my neck, no doubt relishing his ownership of me. His hand skims over the hollow of my throat and along the tender flesh of my neck. "Has he touched you here?"

"Yes." The words are more of a struggle now.

He gives a quick tug of the fist in my hair, angling my chin even further to give him complete access to the skin above the neckline of my dress. His kiss devours my flesh. Lips, teeth, and tongue sear, bite, and soothe in a line of fire blazing across my skin. His attack leaves me breathless, intoxicated. I feel my resistance slipping and am fighting for what little I have left. He releases me and I stagger, chest heaving, mind spinning. His impossibly blue eyes take in every detail, fully aware of the effect he is having on me.

Beast backs away, but I am not foolish enough to think he is done with me. He moves around me then, a panther circling its prey before delivering the final blow. He steps behind me in a haze of shadow before roughly grabbing my hips to pull me flush against him once more. I can feel a growing hardness pressed against my backside and an involuntary wave of heat flashes through me. I am terrified, and yet strangely thrilled. As if sensing my unspoken desires, his hands trail down from my shoulders in an achingly slow movement to the top of my bodice. My chest is rising and falling heavily with every breath and a shiver of anticipation courses through me. "Has he touched you here?" Beast demands in a deafening whisper.

The words feel caught in my throat, but I dare not let this silence grow. "Yes."

With an angry moan, he rips my bodice open, exposing my breasts. Under his gaze, they are heavy with need, nipples pebbled in a betrayal of my hidden arousal. Beast paws them roughly, kneading and squeezing in a way that draws a moan from my lips. He touches me as though he would consume me. Touches me like the ever ravenous predator lurking beneath his cover of darkness. I cannot help but give in. I lean against him and revel in the sensation of his insatiable touch. He flexes his hips and I feel the pressure of his full erection grinding against me. There is a rush of wetness in my core and I cry out loudly. His lips are at my neck, his fingers pinching my nipples in painful ecstasy. At last it is too much; I cannot stay still. I reach my arms to his head, threading my fingers through his hair, tracing the cool line of his skin from temple to jaw. He nips my flesh and I scream his name.

He stills, and the moment is broken. In one swift motion my hands are pinioned between us and his fingers clench around my jaw. "I did not command you to speak." His words are ice dripping down my spine. "You disobeyed me. I will show you what happens when you disobey me." I cannot keep up with his change in mood. My body is still aching for his touch as he forces me to my knees before him. He frees himself and moves his hand along his hardness in long strokes, his eyes raking over my full breasts. Those brilliant blue eyes are tinged with darkness, heavy with lust. "You belong to me. Your body is mine to use as I see fit." I am at once enraptured and terrified. His free hand grabs my jaw once more and he traces his thumb across my lips. "I am going to claim your mouth." He presses his thumb inside of me. "Suck," he commands. I do as I am bid and find a strange flush of heat spreading through me at obeying his order. Beast moans appreciatively, then slowly withdraws his digit.

Beast slides his fingers to the back of my head and forces me nearer his member already glistening with need. His eyes lock on mine and I am utterly lost in him. "Pleasure me, Belle. Take my cock in your mouth." The look he gives me leaves me aching with with desire. I am reduced to feelings of need. The need to obey him. The need to feel his lips clamping around my hardened nipples. The need to have him fill the sweet void between my thighs. Beast will wait no more, and forces himself into my mouth. I groan at the velvety texture of him and greedily lick the slick juices from his head. "Deeper," he commands. His fingers tangle in my hair as I slide my lips further toward his base, taking inch after inch. He growls when his cock brushes the back of my throat. "Take me all the way." His words are strained, as though he is barely holding back. I relax my throat and let him slide deeper until my lips sink around the base of his shaft. He moans loudly and I feel another burst of wetness at my core. Both of his hands grip me hard and pull me to him. "Stay still," he growls. He begins moving his hips, slowly drawing himself outward then pushing deeper. His tempo increases gradually, and I can barely breathe. He grunts as he moves faster and faster, loud, primal noises that set every nerve ending in my body on fire. He is pumping into me wildly now, using my warm throat to take his pleasure. Suddenly, I feel him tense and he pulls himself out of my mouth in a motion that leaves me gasping. One pump of his hand, two, then he is coming, spraying streams of his seed across my aching, exposed breasts.

Before I can process the waves of emotion roiling through me, Beast hauls me to my feet and forces me before the mirror. He is behind me, a deeper shadow against the surrounding darkness. "Look at yourself," he growls, and I do. I do not recognize myself. Staring back at me in the mirror is not a woman, but a wild animal. Hair mussed, eyes wild and darting, chest heaving, and breasts exposed through a ripped dress, covered in the evidence of what I have done. The figure in the mirror is wanton, wild, insatiable. Surely I am none of those things. Yet strangely, I enjoy seeing myself this way. This reflection is like a window into a hidden door in my soul, a secret part of me only Beast has released. "You are beautiful," he purrs at my ear. "And you are mine." His hands find my breasts again and my desire soars to new heights. The thrill of watching him squeeze and toy with my heavy mounds is unlike any I have known before. I am whimpering in his arms, a match ready to ignite with just a single stroke of pleasure between my tender lips. "Tell me what you want, Belle."

A command. I must obey. I feel that I am going mad with need, but manage to find the words. "Please," I gasp. "Please, Beast. I need release." He locks eyes with me in the mirror as he pinches my nipples and I mewl loudly. "I want to come," I beg. I don't even care that I am begging, so great is my need. In this moment, I will do anything for the satisfaction of relief.

"No." His hands are suddenly at my throat, my waist, pressing me against him too tightly for me to move. "Your pleasure belongs to me." His eyes hungrily comb over my form. "Do you see what I can turn you into? See how wild I can make you?" He locks eyes with me again and it is more forceful than his arms around me. "You have disobeyed me. When you defy me, I will leave you wanting, or better yet, find other, more forceful forms of punishment." There is a wicked gleam in his eyes and I am terrified of what his words might mean. "You are not to touch yourself or take any other means to relieve your desire. I can have you any time and any way that I want, and you will wait for your release until I command you to let go. Do you understand?"

I cannot speak for the welling of tears keeping my throat closed. Somehow this denial feels more painful than any physical punishment he could have administered. I refuse to let him see tears building and nod quickly to show his message is received. With a wicked grin, he releases me and I stumble forward against the glass. I attempt to gather the scraps of fabric around my chest and bite my tongue to keep the tears at bay for just a few more moments.

"Your rooms are through there." He motions to a door opposite from where we entered. "Do not leave your quarters tonight."

I nod again and walk swiftly to the door. I cannot bear to look back, do not wish to see what cruelty lies within those eyes that have ensnared me so.

Within my rooms, I locate the bathing chamber and run a bath so hot it scalds my skin. It is not until I have scrubbed every bit of him from my body that I finally let the tears fall. I cry for my foolishness, for the wave of emotions I cannot begin to name, and for the sudden turn my life has taken in a single day. How could I have dreamed that when I kissed Papa goodbye this morning that I would spend my night in a cold, unforgiving place with a master whose soul is darker than his surroundings? A man who has already imprinted his darkness upon me and threatens to devour my being. I am not aware of how long I lie in the tub, but by the time I am ready to leave, the water has long since run cold.

The wardrobe in my bedchamber is full of gowns for every occasion, in every style and every color. I briefly wonder who these belonged to, but find that I am too tired to give it much thought. I simply choose a dressing gown and make my way to the bed. I feel exhausted in my very bones and am grateful for the soft down mattress awaiting me. Too tired for any more thought or worry, I gladly let the weight of sleep pull me under.

I wake disoriented and groggy. It is not yet dawn, for the windows of my room reveal that the sky is still pitch black. I wonder why I have awoken when I feel it: a cold so deep that it slices through my bones. I clutch the blankets around me, but they make no difference. This is the kind of cold that freezes the heart and tears apart the soul.

An agonizing cry reaches me from the adjoining room.

I hold still, barely breathing as I strain to hear it again. The silence stretches and I wonder if I could have imagined it. I am starting to convince myself to return to sleep when it sounds again, louder. It is a cry of anguish, the sound made from the strike of a fatal blow or the ripping of a soul from one's body.

I am out of bed and running before I fully understand what I am doing. "Beast!" I shout. Moving to the door is like trudging through water. Each motion feels slow, heavy, and the door seems barely closer no matter how much I struggle. I am in a nightmare from which I cannot wake.

The cry comes again, this time inhumanly loud. It is earsplitting and earth-shattering, the final cry before one's being is annihilated from existence.

I struggle for the door with more desperation, panic beginning to take hold. "Beast!" I cry again, and again.

There is no response. There is only deafening silence that stretches on endlessly.

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A/N: And we're off to a wild ride! I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed this chapter and look forward to continuing the story. My goal is to post chapters weekly, so please stay tuned.


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